Page 102 of Crown of Light and Ashes
"Of course, my lord," he replies, reluctantly tearing his gaze from Banu, who looks genuinely disappointed by his departure.
I turn without meeting Nesilhan's eyes again, afraid of what she might see there—the naked fear, the conflict, the desperate desire for something I know I should never have. The realization that crashes through me as I walk away is more terrifying than any nightmare, more devastating than any battle loss.
I love her.
The truth nearly stops me in my tracks. I love Nesilhan—not just her body, not just her submission, not just her defiance. All of her. Every stubborn, infuriating, magnificent inch.
I love her, and that makes her the most dangerous vulnerability I've ever faced.
Because in that moment, watching her with those children, feeling her kiss, I wanted more than I have any right to want. I envisioned a future where a son with her eyes and my shadows calls me father, where family means more than power, where love isn't a weakness but the greatest strength of all.
But some monsters aren't meant to be fathers, no matter how much they might wish otherwise.
Some futures are too dangerous to contemplate, especially for a man with shadows where his soul should be.
My swift departure from the garden feels like retreat, though I tell myself it's strategy. Self-preservation. Protection—not for me, but for her. For the future she deserves, one untainted by my darkness.
For the child that might already be growing inside her, though I refuse to let myself believe it is possible.
I will not become my father. I will not lose control as I did with Isil. I will not destroy what matters most.
Even if that means destroying myself instead.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Dark Truth
Nesilhan
THE SUN CASTS golden rays through the shadow trees as I leave the garden, my heart lighter than it has been since coming to the Shadow Court. I pause at the edge of the path, savoring this rare moment of pure contentment. The children's laughter still rings in my ears—their initial fear of the Shadow Lord melting into wonder as Kaan creates intricate shadow creatures for their amusement. Little Thea's delighted squeal when I show her how to shape her fingers to make a butterfly shadow on the garden wall. Eren's serious concentration as he perfects his wolf, his small face lighting up when Kaan adds glowing red eyes to his creation.
"Again, Lord Kaan! Please, again!" they beg, fear forgotten as they crowd around him.
And Kaan—stern, terrifying Kaan—obliges with surprisingpatience, his shadows dancing for them in ways I've never seen before. Not to threaten, not to intimidate, but to delight. To create wonder instead of fear.
My hand drifts instinctively to my still-flat stomach, a secret smile warming my face. One day soon, our own child might sit among these orphans, learning to create shadow butterflies and wolves from their father. The image is so vivid—Kaan's large hands guiding tiny ones, teaching our child the intricate movements that bring shadows to life. Not as weapons, but as art.
The thought fills me with such overwhelming happiness that I nearly turn around to find him now, to tell him that the prophecy is coming true, that we're creating a future neither of us ever imagined possible.
Soon, I promise myself. Tonight, perhaps, when we're alone. When I can see his face as I tell him he's going to be a father.
As I make my way through the palace corridors toward my chambers, exhaustion begins to settle into my bones. The afternoon with the children was joyful but draining. This new fatigue that comes with early pregnancy is unlike anything I've experienced before—a bone-deep weariness that descends without warning. Yet beneath the tiredness glows a fierce happiness that not even exhaustion can dim.
Three servants approach, bowing respectfully as they pass. Their whispers follow in their wake, and I catch fragments as they continue down the corridor—"glowing," "the Shadow Lady," "never seen her smile so much." I can't even bring myself to mind their gossip. Let them talk. Let the entire Shadow Court see that their fearsome lord's wife is happy, contented, perhaps even in love.
Love. The word I've been afraid to even think, let alone speak aloud. But it's true. Somehow, against all odds, I've fallen in love with the monster I was sent to destroy. Except he isn't the monster I thought him to be. He's complex, contradictory—capable of bothterrible cruelty and unexpected gentleness. The way he looked at me in the garden today, with something so vulnerable in his eyes when I kissed him... it was as if he'd never been kissed with genuine affection before.
I remember the first time he showed me the shadow observatory, his voice softening as he explained the constellations. The night he taught me to manipulate small shadows, his hands guiding mine with surprising patience. The morning I found him asleep at his desk, brow furrowed even in slumber, and how he leaned into my touch when I smoothed his hair from his face.
And now, a child. Our child. The living embodiment of shadow and light united.
When I reach my chambers, I'm surprised to find the door slightly ajar. A flicker of assassin's instinct tenses my muscles before I recognize Banu's familiar magic. Pushing open the door, I see her standing near the window, her back to me, wings unusually still. Something about her posture immediately sets warning bells ringing in my mind.
"Banu?" I say softly, closing the door behind me. "Is everything alright?"
She turns, and I immediately notice the absence of her usual mischievous smile. Her wings droop slightly, lacking their characteristic shimmer, and her silver-blonde hair has shifted to a dull gray—a color I've rarely seen on her.
"Nesilhan," she replies, her voice strained as she attempts a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Back from your garden adventure? How were the little shadow spawn?"
